


George Weasley / Hufflepuff Reader

by musicalcrimescene



Series: George/Fred Weasley Short Stories [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Betting on who reader likes, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalcrimescene/pseuds/musicalcrimescene
Summary: I should know better, really, than to think Ginny or Hermione would let it go. After abruptly ending our conversation the night before by leaving the library and claiming I had “Hufflepuff business” to attend to, I should have known that wouldn’t be the end. Ginny looks up to George and Fred with a determined look in her eyes and says, “She’s been acting different lately; daydreaming during class, doodling on her parchment… she smiles all the time for no reason!”Ron cuts in during a brief interlude of shoving toast in his mouth. “Honestly, that just sounds like her. It’s not exactly unusual… no offense.” You smile at him while Ginny gives an exasperated sigh. Hermione continues for her.“She clearly fancies someone, but she won’t tell us who.”
Relationships: George Weasley/Reader, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: George/Fred Weasley Short Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012857
Comments: 15
Kudos: 203





	George Weasley / Hufflepuff Reader

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to finally post my Harry Potter short stories for the public to read. They're going to be mostly George or Fred Weasley short fics, but if you have any specific requests then I can do those too. They're not very edited, so please be wary of any spelling or grammar mistakes.

I should know better, really, than to think Ginny or Hermione would let it go. After abruptly ending our conversation the night before by leaving the library and claiming I had “Hufflepuff business” to attend to, I should have known that wouldn’t be the end. As much as I want to avoid the conversation, one I knew would go on for quite a while, I finally accede the next morning.

I was walking to breakfast with Hannah Abbott and Zacharias Smith, discussing the upcoming Herbology essay due, and had just entered the great hall when two hands grip my arms and yank me away. I know who they belong to almost immediately, and call out a hasty “see you later!” to Hannah, who looks amused, and Zach who sports a concerned look until Hannah yanks him away to our usual seats at the Hufflepuff table.

I turn to face my abductors and smile. “You know, you could have just asked nicely.”

Ginny responds first. “Yes, but would you have come? No. So we were left with no other choice.”

“It’s really not so bad,” Hermione adds. “We’re just curious! If you would just tell us, we wouldn’t have to be so forceful.” You reach the Gryffindor table and you sit down between your two friends, smiling at a smirking Harry and chewing Ron in front of you. By now it was a usual occurrence for you to appear at the Gryffindor table for the occasional meal, and so Dean greets you kindly from next to Ron. The twins, who are busy whispering to one another, probably scheming for more trouble, give you simple nods. You look between the two of them, smiling as George meets your eyes. Before you can say anything, he’s pulled back into conversation with Fred and a persistent Hermione pokes your side.

“C’mon now, we’re all friends here. Why can’t you just tell us? And don’t say there’s no one, because we know that’s not true.” You smile and shake your head, beginning to pile food on your plate.

“Ginny, sometimes you’re too stubborn for your own good.” 

She simply rolls her eyes. “Yes, and sometimes you’re too secretive for your own good, Fletcher. It’s a simple question, really. Would you rather we guess? Bet you I can get it in the first five tries.” This seems to garner some attention from your surrounding company. Fred and George look up, suddenly interested in your conversation.

“Betting, are we?” Starts Fred.

George continues. “And what exactly are we betting on?”

You shake your head and pour yourself some pumpkin juice. “Nothing, nothing at all. Ginny and Hermione here have convinced themselves of something that isn’t true.” You smile at George briefly, meeting his curious gaze before tucking into your breakfast. 

You snort as Ginny makes an offended gasping noise. “I know I’m not wrong.” She looks up to George and Fred with a determined look in her eyes and says, “She’s been acting different lately; daydreaming during class, doodling on her parchment… she smiles all the time for no reason!” 

Ron cuts in during a brief interlude of shoving toast in his mouth. “Honestly, that just sounds like her. It’s not exactly unusual… no offense.” You smile at him while Ginny gives an exasperated sigh. Hermione continues for her.

“She clearly fancies someone, but she won’t tell us who.”

This time George interrupts. “How do you know Fletcher fancies someone? Did she say?” You chuckle lightly and look up at him as you answer.

“No, I haven’t said I fancy anyone. They didn’t even bother asking if I did, just insisted I give them a name.” He smirks a little, and next to him Fred gives a mischievous smile before speaking.

“Well, girls, it seems you missed quite an important step.” 

Hermione raises her eyebrow at that. “Oh? And what would that be?”

“Simply asking!” George responds. He looks back to you. “So, do you fancy a bloke?”

Harry snorts into his goblet. “Do you honestly think she’s going to-”

“Yes, I just might,” you interrupt. You look down at your plate, feigning disinterest as Ginny slams her palm down on the table next to you. 

“I knew it! See, I told you she fancies someone. Well, who is it?” You fork some eggs into your mouth and shrug as you chew. You can’t help but smile just a little at her frustrated huff.

“Oh, come on love,” Fred exclaims. “You can’t just say that and move on! You’ve gotten our attention, hasn’t she Georgie?” You see Fred elbow his twin in the side and wiggle his eyebrows. George glares at his brother for a moment, having some kind of nonverbal conversation with him, before turning back to the rest of the group.

“So, any hints as to who this guy is? You’re not secretly dating him are you?” You laugh and shake your head.

“Of course not! I wouldn’t start dating someone and not tell my best mates.” You give George a wink and force yourself to look away at his resulting blush. You’re grateful you don’t blush easily. 

“No, but you’re just fine fancying someone and not telling us about it.” Hermione huffs and seems to give in, focusing on her breakfast for the first time instead of you. 

“It’s different,” Harry says. You raise an eyebrow at him and he blushing a little, continuing. “It’s more… it’s embarrassing, really, when you fancy someone but aren’t dating them yet.” You struggle not to laugh as you glance at Ginny on your left, watching as she flushes a bright red, mirroring Harry as she looks down at her plate. You decide to tease the two just a little.

“Oh? And tell me, Harry, is there anyone you fancy? Any certain- ow!” You frown at the firm kick Ginny gives you under the table. Having five brothers certainly paid off well for her if your forming bruise was anything to go by. Harry ignores your comment and reaches for the breakfast sausages instead before turning to his left and starting a new conversation with Ron about their divination homework. You smile despite the pain in your leg and continue eating. You’re about to ask Hermione about the new books she’s reading when Fred speaks again.

“So, are we betting or not?” 

Hermione raises a brow at him. “Betting on what?”

“On who’s caught our darling’s eye, of course!” George chimes in. He gives you a wink, and you just smirk back. If he’s willing to play…

Before Hermione can say no, Ginny cuts in, pointing her fork at the twins. “What are we betting? I’ve only got a couple galleons after the last Hogsmeade trip.”

“What about this,” you say. The four give you surprised looks, clearly not having expected you to play along. “If anyone guesses who it is by the next Hogsmeade trip, they have full permission to embarrass me infront of whoever it may be. That way you two,” you say as you point at the twins, “can pull whatever scheming prank you’d like, or you,” and you use your fork to gesture between the girls on either side of you, “can scream ‘I told you so’ and tease me as much as you’d like.” You take a bite of toast and look between the four of them. Ginny seems pleased with herself, but the other three are giving you strange looks. “What?”

‘It’s just…” Hermione starts. “I wasn’t expecting you to agree so readily or be willing to set the bet yourself.” She squints her eyes at you, leaning close. “What do you know that we don’t?” Rolling your eyes, you nudge her shoulder with your own.

“Other than who I might fancy, nothing. I guess I’m just confident you won’t figure it out.” Almost instinctively, your eyes flicker up to George. You startle when you find him already looking at you, head resting on his hand, looking like he’s trying to solve some sort of puzzle. You gain a spark of confidence, and decide to add on, “You know what? I’ll even give you the occasional hint. In return, you also only get one guess a week.”

Ginny snorts. “You’re that confident we won’t figure it out? You do know we’ve got Hermione on our side, don’t you?” You simply look at Hermione and smile innocently, ignoring her look of determination.

You glance away and see Fred smiling. He claps George on the shoulder and says, “Well, we’ve got five whole weeks until the next Hogsmeade trip, haven’t we George? I think we’ll do just fine, especially with those extra hints. But…” He trails off as George finishes the sentence for him.

“But, what’s in it for you if we don’t figure it out?” At this you flash your best smile at the twins and raise your arms, wrapping them around Ginny and Hermione’s shoulders.

“Well, if I win and none of you guess by that Saturday morning, then none of you ever bring this up again and we all forget I ever fancied someone in the first place!”

Fred raises brow at you, and you don’t dare glance in George’s direction. Ginny opens her mouth, brows furrowed, but before she can protest you stand and grab your bag. Saying a quick goodbye to Harry and Ron, you rush away from the table to meet up with some other Hufflepuffs in your year. 

You try to listen in to their conversation, but your mind keeps going back to breakfast. You’re confident they won’t guess who it is, even Hermione with her way of knowing seemingly everything. Five weeks may be a decent time for them to do some searching, but still, you’re confident. After all, you’ve been feeling this way about George since second year when Ron introduced you to the rest of his family. You became fast friends with the twins, unfortunately not seeing as much of them as you’d like due to being in different houses and years. But still, you couldn’t help but adore his smile and every subtle difference between him and his brother. Your heart seems to melt at his laugh and though you’re long over the nervousness you used to feel whenever he’d enter the room, you still strongly feel his presence. It’s warm and comforting, you think, which you never thought a person’s presence could be. Then again, you never thought you’d meet someone like George either.

You smile as you think of him and take your seat next to Zacharias in potions. Even as Snape enters the room, domineering as always, you continue to smile. It wavers for a moment as you once more recall the bet. You sigh as Zacharias stands to retrieve the ingredients and you start the fire under your cauldron. In five weeks, one of two things will happen. Either they somehow figure it out and you’re humiliated as George rejects you, or they remain clueless and you force yourself to finally get over him. It’s been years since you’ve started harboring feelings for the boy, and still nothing has changed. You refuse to live the rest of your time at Hogwarts pining after a boy who will never like you back. This bet provides a forceful deadline to move on.  
You smile at Zach as he comes back and the two of you start the potion Snape assigned. Luckily you have this lesson with Ravenclaw, but you know eventually you’ll have to face Hermione in arithmancy. Even so, you look forward to it as always. She can be stubborn, but she’s still your close friend. You just hope she’s not close enough to figure out how you really feel about a certain Weasley.

___________________

The subject is left alone until two days later when you’re walking down the hall to the library. You have a free period and plan on sitting in your favorite chair in the library right by the window so you can finally finish the book Hermione lent you. As you turn a corner, though, two arms suddenly find themselves slung over your shoulders. You don’t need to look to know who they belong to. “Hello George, hello Fred. May I ask what you’re up to?” 

They just grin in response, ignoring your question. Instead, Fred says, “Y’know, usually it’s my name said first in the pair, but with you it’s always Georgie.” He throws a dramatic hand up to his brow, quivering his lip. “I s’pose I know where I stand here! I simply get no love from you, Fletcher, none at all.” 

You smile and pinch his side, pleased to see him jump away, retracting his arm from around your shoulder. You laugh at his reaction and offended expression, and tease him back. “What can I say, perhaps I thought your ego could use a bit of shrinking. Besides,” You look up at George and smile, flushing a bit when you see him laughing lightly at your antics. You realize his arm has stayed around your shoulders flush further. “Besides,” you continue, as you look back at Fred. “George always has been my third favorite Weasley. But don’t worry Fred, you’re a close fourth.”

You laugh at their offended faces and prepare yourself for the yelling. As expected, they deliver. “What do you mean I’m only your third favorite?”

“-ranked below George? Are you mad, woman?”

“-deserve to be second at least.” 

“Well,” you respond, “no one can quite beat Bill or Ginny.” You wink at them before turning another corner. Finally, you reach the library and are surprised when the twins follow you in. The entrance is narrow with only one door open, and you expect George to drop his arm and trail behind you. Instead, he pulls you closer so you can easily walk through the door, Fred trailing behind you. Your heartbeat speeds up, but you force yourself to calm down. It’s nothing. It means nothing.

You head towards your regular table instead of the chair and hide the disappointment when George finally removes his arm from around you in order to sit in the chair next to yours. Fred takes a seat across from you and before you can even get your book out of your bag he interrupts your plans of reading by placing his hands down in front of you. They both look at you and really, you should have known better than to think you’d get any peace with these two around.

You send a questioning look their way before they begin to speak. 

“So,” starts Fred. “How about that guy over there, eh?” He points a finger over to his right and you follow it, finding Cedric Diggory studying a few tables down from you. You blink in his direction and then look back to Fred.

“Um… What about him?” Fred rolls his eyes.

“He’s fit, wouldn’t you say? Charming, too, I’ve heard, right George?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you before looking to his brother who leans his head in his hand and looks at you. 

“Indeed, Fred. In fact,” he says, “I’m pretty sure our boy Cedric’s got nearly every girl at Hogwarts after him. Even some guys, too.” He winks at you when he’s done and you roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair. It’s clear what they’re trying to do, but you refuse to let them win one over on you. Looking at Fred, you smirk and shift forward in your seat and lean across the table, getting as close as you can to his face. This change in demeanor surprises him for sure if his raised eyebrows are anything to go by. You speak lightly, but loud enough for both twins to hear you.  
“You’re right. He is quite handsome. I’d say one of the most handsome wizards in school. And,” you give a conspiratol look at George, who shifted closer to you upon your leaning across the table for Fred. “I’ve even heard he’s single. I’d say this is quite the opportunity.”

Looking back at Fred, you see his cocky smile. He’s sure he’s got you here. You smile even wider, and before he can open his mouth to speak you continue. “So really, Freddie, if you’re so enamoured with him, now’s your chance. Afterall, Hogsmeade is in just a couple of weeks.” Resisting the urge to laugh at his open mouth and uncomfortable expression, you shift back to your side of the table, this time leaning in close to George. You catch a whiff of his scent as you do, and you have to resist the urge to take in a deeper breath. You’ve never noticed how lovely he smells.

“George, don’t you think it would be absolutely adorable watching Fred and Cedric walking through Hogsmeade, holding hands and blushing all shy-like as they finally face their mutual attraction?” You look at George to find a wicked grin on his face, obviously pleased with his brother’s embarrassment. 

He puts his arm back around your shoulder before looking at Fred and continuing your joke. “Oh, it would be the cutest, Fletcher. I’m sure Cedric over there would be an utmost gentleman and take Fred to Madam Puddifoot’s.” At this, you can’t help but let out a loud laugh. The thought of Fred and Cedric blushing at a pink table in Madam Puddifoot’s was too much. Because you were laughing, though, you missed the way George’s eyes softened at the sound and his smile got just a little wider. Fred did not.

“Alright, you two, laugh it up. I’m sure it’s all very funny.” You wipe your eyes as you try to calm down your laughter.

“What can I say, Fred,” you manage to get out between your chuckles. “I’m a romantic at heart.” You ignore the look Fred gives you, and just look away when he shifts that look to George next to you. You’re sure Fred doesn’t know about your feelings. Not once in your years of knowing them have you given any kind of sign that you were interested in his brother. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of dread at the look in Fred’s eyes, as though he knows something you don’t.

___________________

It’s a rare occurrence for this time of year, but the weather outside has warmed up just enough that it can be considered warm. You’re sure it’s only for the weekend, and so you, Hermione, Ginny, Harry and Ron decide to take advantage of such nice weather. You’re lying on your stomach reading your potions book, hoping to understand just a little better whatever theory Snape was talking about the previous day. You’re truly horrible at potions, and so Hermione very kindly offered to answer any questions you have.

Ron and Harry are busying themselves with a game of exploding snap as Hermione and Ginny talk between themselves. You enjoy the background noise as you read along in your book, but soon the peaceful atmosphere is broken by Ginny’s poking finger.

“Ow!” You look up from your book, glaring at Ginny. “What are you poking me for, Weasley? I’m trying to read.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, and we’re trying to ask you a question. Hermione and I were talking, and what kind of guy do you see yourself with?” You raise an eyebrow at their not so subtle attempt at getting more information on who you’re interested in. It’s been about two weeks since the bet started, and they’re no closer to guessing who the mystery man is. Their first guess had been the same as the twins’, Cedric Diggory. They’d been disappointed but unsurprised that the answer was wrong. After being in the same house as Cedric for several years, he’s become more of a subtle brotherly figure to you if anything.

“Oh? And why are you asking?” Hermione straightened up and tried her best to appear casual and curious.

“We’ve just never seen you express interest in someone before. You’ve never been on a date that we know of. It’s just… I don’t know, unusual to see you interested in someone.” You consider this for a moment. As obvious as they were being, they had a point. Dates had never interested you very much, and the boys who had asked you out before, of which there were few, you had all rejected for some reason or another. As far as you know, you’ve never participated in any conversations your friends have had concerning boys or crushes. After all, the guy you liked wasn’t exactly someone you could gush about to Ginny. Once you became close friends with the Gryffindors and not just Hufflepuffs in your year, it seemed much more embarrassing to harbor feelings for a Weasley twin.

Shrugging, you say, “You’re right. I’m not exactly one for romance or relationships. I suppose I just hadn’t found anyone worth fawning over. I didn’t see the point in it all.” You look up at them and their concerned and curious faces. Smiling, you continue. “After all, I have the most incredible friends. What do I need a romantic partner for? Platonic love is just as important as romantic love, you know.” Hermione gives you a fond smile for that and Ginny flops down on her back, giggling.

“You’re just avoiding the question now,” she giggles. You laugh back.

“Yes, I am. To make up for it, I’ll give you your second hint. He’s not in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. But speaking of boys, what about you two, eh? Any boys who have caught your interest? Any at all? Perhaps I know them and can help set you up!” Ignoring the glares the girls are giving you, you watch Harry and Ron look up from their game, trying to remain subtle in their now present attention. Slightly blushes covered both their cheeks. 

You duck a swift hand from Hermione, but get whacked in the back by Ginny, and quite hard at that. “Ow, Ginny! Careful, would you? Not all of us can be fit athletes like you.” The subtle compliment pleases her a bit, but she’s still red in the face as she huffs and avoids looking at the boys.

“Now you’re just playing dirty,” she mutters under her breath. You snort out a laugh before looking back over at Ron and Harry. 

“What about you boys? Any girls you’re swooning over?” They go back to focusing diligently on their game of exploding snap and you laugh, taking that as their answer.

Ron looks up in a huff at your laugh. “Well, you know, at least one of us is getting some kind of attention. I heard Fred finally started talking to Angelina. About bloody time.”

Harry raises his eyebrow and nods. “Yeah… feel bad for George though. Fred’s always following Angelina about; he’s either the third wheel and left to mind his own.” You frown at this. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen one twin without the other. It becomes easy for people to just count them as one, Fred and George, George and Fred, instead of two separate people. You try your best not to lump them together, as you can’t imagine how unpleasant that would feel no matter how close their relationship is. Still, Fred leaving George’s side or vice versa just seems… strange. You wonder if George feels lonely. 

“Well,” you say to the group. “If Fred ever abandons him for that girl Angelina, George should feel more than welcome to join us. You should tell him, Ron.”  
Ron raises an eyebrow at you, but eventually shrugs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll let him know.” Ginny smiles at you. She cares deeply for her brothers, you all know that, but she’d never be caught dead being as thoughtful as that to any one of them except perhaps Bill or Charlie. You smile back at her before returning to your book, hoping that the blush on your cheeks can be excused by the warm sun.

___________________

You’re lounging in the common room finishing another book when a second year enters and walks up to you. It’s a small boy with blonde hair, and he says “Hey, uh, you’re Fletcher, right? There’s some red headed guy in the hall asking for you.”

You close your book and walk towards the portrait door, having a good guess as to which Weasley it is. Of course, George Weasley is standing there, waiting patiently. 

“George!” You say. “What a lovely surprise. And what are you doing out here, may I ask?” 

He looks solemn, more so than you’ve ever seen him. Instead of responding, he runs a hand through his hair and asks you a question of his own. “How do you know the difference between Fred and  
I? You get it right every time. I just… I guess I don’t understand.”

You smile gently at his confused expression and start walking. He follows. You look up at him and lightly poke the side of his neck. He looks at you, surprised, before you begin speaking. “You have a mole right there that Fred doesn’t. You’re also a bit taller, though I’ll admit that’s only helpful when the two of you are together.” You clasp your hands behind your back and skip a little, walking a bit ahead of him. Without looking back, you continue. “Your face is slightly longer and you have a little bump on your nose. Your top lip is a bit more curved than Fred’s, but you can really notice it when you smile.” 

At this, you turn around, walking backwards as you face him. His smile seems unintentional, like he’s not even aware it’s there. His eyes search your face, but don’t seem to find what they’re looking for. You stop walking and watch his steps stutter and he pauses in front of you. Only a couple of feet separate the two of you, but you feel as though you’ve never been closer or so intimate before. Making eye contact, you bite your bottom lip in another smile.

“And your voice… his voice is quite… open? No, I don’t think that’s the right word.” You lift your hand to your mouth and lightly bite your thumbnail as you search for the right word. Surely there was a way to properly describe the differences in their voices. There must be a way to articulate how Fred’s voice had you anticipating some sort of joke, it prepared you for mischief and laughs. But George’s voice - his voice was unlike any other. There was something so deep and soothing about it, the way that it could make shivers run down your spine. When you heard him speak, low and smooth, there was absolutely nothing that could control the smile splitting across your face.

You suppose you had been mumbling a bit as you pondered this; when you peered up at George, his face had gone completely red and his mouth was parted just the slightest amount. A smile breaks out on your face at this adorable look as you try to ignore your own blushing. No point in trying to backtrack and take back what you said. It was all true anyway, and from his behavior earlier you believe George needed to hear such words.

You shrug and drop your hand behind your back once more, turning around and beginning to walk. It takes a moment, but you soon hear his footsteps following after your own. “I’ll admit, there’s no obvious physical distinction between the two of you. But the energy each of you present is very different. I can’t quite explain how I know, but I’m not even sure I’d have to look at you to be sure you’re George. I just… know.” You slow down, giving him the chance to catch up to you. As you peer sideways at his face and find his eyes looking back at you, you finally begin to fumble in your speech.

“I suppose that sounds quite weird, doesn’t it? Me talking about your energy and all that, I must sound mad. It’s true though, and I don’t know any other words to describe it.” A chuckle sounds from the left of you and when you look up you find George looking down at you, dopey grin and all, laughing at your attempts at explanation. You smile back and shove him slightly.

“Sod off, George, I tried my best! It’s hard, you know. I’d like to see you try.” His chuckles die down a bit as he opens his mouth.

“Well, I could certainly try, but I doubt I’d get anywhere near as eloquent as you were.” You look ahead in hopes that your hair will hide any blush you might be sporting at the moment. Taking in your surroundings, you realize the two of you have made it to the hallways surrounding the courtyard. You pause at a window opening and lean against it, sighing. Your breath forms a small cloud in the cold air. It’s just started turning from fall to winter, a transition you can’t wait for.

George leans against the stone wall next to you. The two of you stand there against the stone for a moment, watching your breath form little clouds, before he clears his throat a bit. You look over at him. His face is red and his mouth slightly open.

“Your smile, uh,” he pauses for a moment, glancing at you and then quickly looking away. “It’s uh… there. You have a nice one.” You giggle for a moment and raise an eyebrow at him. Huffing as he looks at you, he runs a hand through his hair.

“Your smile… do you like winter?” You look back out at the courtyard. There are three Ravenclaw girls passing through, giggling as they wrap their cloaks tighter around themselves. You tilt your head and nod a bit.

“It’s my favorite season. It just seems so calm and the fresh air is so clean. I also much prefer to be too cold than too hot. Winter gives you the perfect reason to start a fire and wear as many jumpers and hats as you want and finally pull out the wool blankets and socks.” You pause and look back up at George to find himself smiling and shaking his head.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you when you’re not smiling.” Your stomach does a little flip as you process this. Of course he hasn’t. Just his presence alone can brighten any mood you’re in, you couldn’t help it. You duck your chin in against your chest and laugh lightly.

“Well, you know. I guess I’m just one of those people who always smile.” You look up at him under your eyelashes. His eyes are searching your face again as he shakes his head.

“No one can smile all the time.” You tilt your head up towards him and smile as bright as you can manage.

“True!” You say. “But no one can be around you all the time either, can they?” You look away before you can see his reaction, as you’re too embarrassed to let him see yours. You look up at the sky and stick your hand out. “And no one can always have their favorite seasons or no homework or be in a place that makes them happy.” you bring your hand back in and cup your palms together, breathing hot air on them to warm them up. “No one can be happy all the time, but a person can choose to see the happy things they have in that moment. Sometimes there aren’t a lot of happy things. That’s what makes it easier to smile when there are.” 

You don’t look at George again. Neither of you say anything, instead choosing to look out at the clouds in the blue sky and listen to the laughter of other students walking through the corridor and courtyard. You don’t say anything when he puts his arm around your shoulders, and he doesn’t mention it when he feels you shaking. Not another word is said until he’s walked you back to your common room, arm still around your shoulders. Before you take out your wand and tap on the barrels, his hand grabs your arm. You look at him, tilting your head in a silent question.

“I was just curious,” he starts, “as to what the next hint is.” 

You smile and look at the portrait, tapping the correct barrels in order. It swings open, but before you walk in you look back at him and say, “He’s kind and open. He isn’t afraid to show his emotions.”

Smiling, George says a quick “thank you,” before walking away. You watch until he turns the corner and then you enter your common room.

___________________

You’re eating at the Gryffindor table for dinner again. When Ginny and the twins dragged you away from the Hufflepuff table, they said it was because it had been too long since you’d joined them for a meal. Insisting that you weren’t supposed to eat at their table anyway did nothing to stop them, and so you once more ended up squished between Ginny and George, Fred next to him and the golden trio across from you. 

It has been a peaceful meal for the most part, as peaceful as it can be with Ron and Hermione squabbling and the twins in a close vicinity. It seemed a nice change of pace from the Hufflepuff table. That is, until Ginny cleared her throat and decided to change to subject.

“So, Fletcher.” You cringe at her tone of voice and focus on the food on your plate, hoping she’ll let it go. She doesn’t, of course. “What do you think about Oliver Wood?”

You were completely unprepared for the question and your body tenses up. Opening your mouth to answer, you quickly realized you have no idea what to say to her, and so you end up opening and closing your mouth like some sort of fish. You can feel your face turning hot and red which makes the floundering even worse. The only sound you manage to get out is some kind of groan that heightens in pitch at the end as though it could stand as a question. If the group wasn’t paying attention to you before, they certainly are now.

When you finally look up, Ginny has the widest shit-eating grin on her face. You know what she’s thinking, but she really couldn’t be more wrong. Out of all people she could have brought up, why did it have to be Oliver Wood?

It takes a bit longer for everyone else to catch on, but once they do you know the rest of your evening will not be peaceful. Hermione has her mouth open, confusion on her face as though this had caught her by surprise. Harry and Ron just looked confused but excited by Fred’s loud, god awful laughing. George though, his reaction was the worst. As you glance up at him, you see that his face has turned bright red and he looks confused and angry and disbelieving all in one. His mouth hangs open slightly as his unfocused eyes look at seemingly nothing. The worst part, however, was when he began yelling.

“Wait, what? Are you serious? Oliver Wood?” You straighten up at his dramatic increase in volume and slap your hand over his mouth, glaring at him. People nearby start looking at you, curious as to what the shouting is, and you can only pray that Oliver himself isn’t sitting nearby. As you watch Hermione’s eye grow in size as she looks down the table, you know you aren’t so lucky. Hand still on George’s mouth, you follow Hermione’s line of sight and see Oliver Wood himself, sitting only a couple people down the row from your group. Your face turns even hotter if possible, and you can’t seem to look away as he finally makes eye contact with you. Once he sees you, you can see the exact moment he figures out what has happened, and he starts to turn red too. 

A hand on your wrist drags your attention away from him, and you look back to George who has taken your hand off his mouth. He drops his hands to his side, still holding yours. You don’t say anything about it, though you can feel the butterflies in your stomach.

George tries lowering his voice, but Fred is still laughing his head off behind him and so he leans in closer to you instead. “Are you serious? It’s that guy? Is it really Wood?” Unconsciously, you grip his hand tighter and see realization dawn on George’s face as he remembers he’s still holding your hand. You turn away and face the rest of the group before he can say anything, refusing to loosen your grip.

Leaning down, you whisper viciously to everyone else who can’t seem to get rid of their looks of utter confusion or glee. “No, it is not Oliver Wood, and I’d appreciate it if you refrained from shouting his name in the middle of the bloody hall, thank you!”

“But if it’s not Wood, then why would you react like that?” You curse Hermione for her curiosity. There was a low chance of it happening, you know that, but still you had hoped they would all just ignore your blushing and bumbling. 

“It’s nothing, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Another loud cackle sounded from Fred as he not so gently slammed him hand down on the table.

“Like hell it’s nothing! A reaction like that? There’s gotta be some interesting backstory. So c’mon Fletcher, tell us what happened? Or do we have to call Wood himself over here to explain it?” You glare at him for that, and refuse to look anyone in the eyes as you resign yourself to your fate. They might be able to make you tell them, but you don’t have to acknowledge them as you do so.

Picking up your fork, you push around some food on your plate before clearing your throat. “It’s not anything worth yelling over. It was just… a mishap that occurred between two… less than sober, consenting individuals. That’s all.” At Hermione's gasp and Ron’s blegh of disgust, you sit up straighter and try to defend yourself. “It was not blegh, Ronald! But it also wasn’t a big deal.” You pointedly look at Hermione with your last point. 

No one said anything until, eventually, Ron spoke up. “So you and Oliver… had a drunken shag?” George’s grip on your hand grew so tight at those words that you couldn’t help but wince before looking at Ron.

“No, we did not shag. Gryffindor had won a match against Slytherin last year, and they decided to celebrate. Some Hufflepuffs went to the party, we both ended up drinking a bit too much fire whiskey and we just… ended up snogging in the hallway.” You mumble the last bit, hoping the rest wouldn’t catch the words, but you hadn’t mumbled enough. Hermione lets out a sudden, surprised laugh as Ginny starts to congratulate you which somehow made the whole situation even more embarrassing.

Fred shakes his head and, with laughter in his voice, says “Who knew our little Fletcher had it in her! Not so innocent are we, then?” You don’t think you’ve ever blushed as much as you had during this meal, but it wasn’t over yet. Fred, being the person he is, decided to make it even worse.

“So… as you so eloquently put it, the snogging wasn’t blegh. Is our captain a talented man, then?” Refusing to answer, you put your head down on the table and sit in their laughter and comments in silence. 

With your head on the table, more of your attention goes to the warmth still in your hand. George’s hand had a steely grip just moments ago, but now it seemed loose and defeated. Frowning, you slowly move your thumb, touching the back of his. You can feel him tense up at the touch, even more so as you begin stroking your thumb back and forth across his knuckles. You try to suppress a smile as his hands loosen in yours before squeezing back, and you turn your head away from him on the table, resting your cheek against the cold wood.

You’re not sure why you’re still holding his hand or why he’s allowing you to. Deciding not to question it, you close your eyes and enjoy the feeling while you can.

Eventually you realize you're still hungry, and so you lift your head and start eating again. The topic of conversation has gone to quidditch, and so you sit quietly and just listen to Harry and the twins go back and forth about practice while Ron and Ginny argue about brooms. Hermione is just sitting there, occasionally telling Ron to lower his voice and chew with his mouth closed. Still, though, she’s smiling. 

When Hermione manages to distract Ron long enough that Ginny gets bored, she leans over to you and whispers, “So, what about that third hint?” You’re fairly certain George heard, as he was right next to you and there was a sudden shift in his body language. Ignoring that, you think for a moment before answering.

“He can always make me feel better. And he can have me laughing like no one else.” For a moment, Ginny looks between you and her brother, and you’re worried she’s noticed your still joined hands. She says nothing and just smiles at you and nods before dragging Ron back into their argument.

Going back to eating, you pretend like nothing feels changed between you and George. You also pretend like you don’t feel him squeeze your hand. You certainly pretend you don’t squeeze back.

___________________

You never meant to get detention. In fact, in your five years at Hogwarts, you’ve never landed yourself a detention before. Sure, you’ve gotten house points taken off for being late to class or exploding the occasional potion, but never detention. As you walk away from transfiguration class, you can’t help but tear up just a little. How embarrassing.

It wasn’t your fault, of course. If it weren’t for the twins you wouldn’t have garnered any attention in today’s lesson. But no, as always the two Weasleys decided to have a bit of time, only this time at your expense. You figure it was Fred’s idea, a sort of payback for your teasing about him and Diggory. That's a fair motive, but did he have to get you back so publicly? And George went along with it too, and yet you can’t bring yourself to be nearly as upset at him as you are at Fred. Of course not…

You count yourself lucky in transfiguration. You had managed to score a seat closest to the window in the beginning of the year, and since then have spent ample time gazing out the window. It was something you looked forward to every lesson, but today it merely proved to be a curse. 

For once you were actually paying attention in class, desperate not to fall behind again after the last topic you still don’t quite understand. You had been scribbling down McGonagall’s notes when you heard a light tap on the window beside you. Glancing up, you nearly fell out of your seat when you saw the Weasley brothers right outside the window. They must be on brooms, you had figured, as there was no other way they could reach a window so high up in the castle. 

Eyes wide, you stared at them for a moment waiting for them to do something, but they just smiled and waved back at you. You quickly ducked your head down and tried to focus back on your notes. It proved useless when you heard another tap, and then another when you still didn’t look up.

You don’t regret many things in your still young life, but in that moment you regretted more than anything not giving the Weasley twins the attention they so clearly wanted. What did you expect other than them to escalate the situation, making it impossible to ignore them?

You felt a light breeze and froze and you realized they disappeared the window directly next to you. You hoped no one else in class had noticed, and was debating looking over or not when a small paper crane flew onto your desk. You checked to see that McGonagall was distracted before looking back at George and Fred. They gestured to the crane on your desk and mimed opening it up. 

Sighing, you pick up the folder paper and delicately try to unfold it. It was quite the lovely crane.

The words on the paper filled you with nothing but pure exasperation. Raising one eyebrow, you look at the two of them out the window, ignoring the gasp of your table mate finally realizing what was going on. Abbott was a bright girl, but she could be quite oblivious sometimes. 

“Really?” You whisper at them, trying to keep your voice low. “Is this really the time to ask for your next hint? I’m in class.” 

Fred smirked and responded with a voice much too loud. “Oh, we know. But we were bored and lost patience waiting for you to tell us.” Your eyes widened even further at his volume, and you hastily put a single finger to your lips, miming the words shut it. 

“Fred and George Weasley, when this lesson is over you better hope I don’t find you two.” George chuckled and moved a bit closer to the window, pushing Fred out of the way.

“What should we be so afraid of? You wouldn’t hurt a fly, Fletcher. Besides, if you haven’t noticed you’re about the size of a first year still, which is very cute and all, but hardly intimidating.” The backhanded compliment had you flustered and you weren’t sure if you want to smile or smack him. You knew they were baiting you, if George’s grin was anything to go by, and you knew you shouldn’t let them antagonize you. And yet, controlling your emotions was never something you were quite good at.

Slamming your hands on the desk, you stand from your chair and give them a smile and a glare. “Oh, I’ll show you-”

“You’ll show me what, Ms. Fletcher?” Freezing, you see the shit eating grin on the twins’ faces as you realize you had made quite the scene in the middle of class. Looking to the front, you see McGonagall in front of you, arms crossed as she waits for your answer.

“Oh, um, professor, I- well, you see…”

“Oh I see quite clearly, Ms. Fletcher. Detention, tonight in my office.” You can feel the heat on your cheeks as humiliation sets in. You absolutely refuse to look around the classroom, certain of what looks you were getting. You silently sit down as you hear the professor speak up again.

“And before you even think of running away, Weasleys, detention for both of you as well. Now please put my window back and get on to your own classes, will you?” She turns around and heads back to the front of the class. You hear the groans of the twins beside you, but you don’t dare look at them. In fact, you don’t look at anything but your own notes for the rest of the lesson. Luckily, it was your last lesson of the day, but even by the end your cheeks are as red as before. A sick feeling of shame and panic had taken you over. This is your first detention ever, and of course it was with one of your favorite professors.

That night, after silently eating in the great hall with Hannah and Zachariah, both of whom thought the situation was very funny, you begin your walk down to McGonagall’s office. You arrive before the twins, and sit down as she explains that you will be cleaning her classroom without your wand. Sighing, you hand it over as her office door opens and the laughs of Fred and George enter the room. You look down at your lap, still quite ashamed of being there, and wonder how on earth they could be laughing at a time like this. Though, you suppose they’ve served their fair of detentions before and are quite used to it.

“How do you do, Minnie?” You hear Fred ask as he takes a seat on your left.

“It’s a lovely evening to be serving detention with such a lovely lady,” George follows up. You try your best not to laugh, but a small giggle escapes you anyway. George, seated on your right, looks down at you smiling when he hears your quiet giggle.

“Enough, both of you,” McGonagall says. “Since you two can’t seem to stay out of trouble together, you’ll be separated for your detention tonight. I’ve already explained to Ms. Fletcher that she will be cleaning my classroom tonight. Fred,” and at this she gestures to George, “you will be joining her. George,” and she gestures to Fred,” you will be polishing the candelabras in the great hall.”  
Finally looking up at the twins, you watch them as their grins grow wider. Fred speaks first. “But professor, he’s not Fred, I am.”

“Honestly,” George continues. “You call yourself our professor.” Clicking his tongue and shaking his head, he leans back in his chair, feigning disappointment. 

“So if I’m not George and he’s not Fred, then am I supposed to do as George was instructed or as Fred was?” Fred smirks as he asks McGonagall who, for all her credit, looked only slightly flustered.

“Oh, forget it,” she says, waving her hand. “Just make sure one of you joins Ms. Fletcher and the other heads to the great hall. Wands, please.” As they hand over their wands, you stand and move to leave the office. Shortly after, two pairs of footsteps follow, and you turn, facing the twins.

“Georgie, I reckon you outta join Fletcher, here. Minnie just gave us the perfect opportunity to plant some firecrackers in the great hall, and I’ve got the perfect idea for a certain Snape.” Winking at the two of you, Fred turns and starts heading off towards the Great Hall, whistling as he goes. You don’t fail to notice the significant look he gives George, but you’ve never understood their silent twin conversations anyway. Looking up at George, you see him roll his eyes before he looks down at you and smiles.

“Well,” he says. “Shall we go?” He bows before holding out his elbow for you to take, giving you a charming smile. Laughing, you link your arms with his and begin walking towards the classroom.

When you get there, cleaning supplies are already set out for the two of you. Grabbing a broom, you head over to the far corner and begin sweeping. Looking over your shoulder at George, you seem him reaching into his robe pocket and pulling out a small radio.

“George, what are you doing? We’re supposed to be cleaning, remember.” He smiles at you before fidgeting with the little radio, turning the dial this way and that until he seems satisfied.  
“Yes, we are. But that sounds awfully boring, so I thought some music would make it a little more interesting.” He finally turns the radio on, and you hear slightly grainy muggle music playing through the speaker.

“George! That’s muggle music! Where’d you get this?” You walk over to him in amazement. It’s been so long since you’ve heard muggle music. You missed it dearly, especially classic rock as it always reminded you of your muggle father. You quickly recognize the song as “Under the Bridge,” an absolute classic. Unable to control your smile, you laugh aloud as you grab your broom again, spinning once before going back to your corner. You hear him turn up the volume and can’t seem to stop yourself from bobbing your head along and mouthing the lyrics. You father loved this band and always played their records while fixing the car or working on some project.

“You know this song, then?” George asks. You smile at him over your shoulder, still mouthing the words. He takes that as your answer and laughs before picking up a rag and some cleaner.  
The two of you work in tandem for a while, listening to muggle rock. George, you find, particularly likes Wonderwall and Nirvana. Eventually one of your favorite songs comes on, and you drop your broom. George jumps at the sudden sound, and you spin around to him, jumping a bit.

“Oh, George, this is my favorite!” As the instrumental intro of “Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” builds up, you jump up and down a little. You’re not sure why, but Aerosmith always makes you incredibly happy, even more so now that you have someone to share it with. 

George laughs at your obvious excitement and sets his rag down. “Then this calls for a break I believe.” He jumps up on one of the desks he’s just cleaned, and you move your shoulders back and forth as the words start to come in. Deciding to be a bit reckless and more free than you’d usually allow yourself to be, you join in.

“I could stay awake just to hear you breathing, watch you smile while you’re sleeping, while you’re far away and dreaming!” Your voice was atrocious, especially considering this song was nowhere near your vocal range. You yelled out the lyrics anyway, pretending to hold up a microphone to your mouth and you squeaked out the next verse. Lucky for you, George was in absolute hysterics listening to your voice and watching you perform for him. At one point you stop singing and just watch him clutch his stomach and he leans back on the desk, eyes closed and his laughter ringing out. You think it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard, his laugh, and it’s only made more beautiful by the boy it belongs to.

Smiling, you walk towards him with an idea in your head. He manages to take a deep breath between laughs and looks at you approaching him, your hand outstretched to him. He raises an eyebrow until he pieces together what you’re asking for. Before he even has the chance to shake his head, you grab his hands in yours and tug him off the desk.

There isn’t a lot of room for dancing between the desks, and so you lead him to the front of the classroom, ignoring his protests.

“Fletcher, really, you know I’m a charming man but I’m absolute pants at dancing and you know it.”  
“Yes,” you respond, giving him your best smile. “And I’m absolute pants at singing, but that didn’t stop me, did it?” At that you tug him closer until he’s only a foot away. Letting go of one of his hands, you place yours on his waist and start swaying back and forth. He hasn’t moved except to nervously chuckle at your touch, and you use your hand on his waste to pinch him just a little. That startles him into moving just a bit, and you laugh.

“C’mon Georgie, it’s dancing! It doesn’t have to be good, it just had to be enjoyed.” He sighs at that despite his smile and follows your lead, gently placing his hand on your waist. You ignore the stutter in your heart at the contact and hope you’re not blushing too much.

The chorus starts up and you join in singing again, loving the way it makes George laugh. You giggle along with him as you sing, reveling in the feeling of pure happiness right now. George lets go of your waist, and for a moment you’re disappointed, but then you feel him raise your connected hands and gesture for you to spin. Laughing, you do so. When he pulls you back this time, you’re only an inch away from his chest and have to tilt your head far back to see his eyes. Your hand finds his waist again, but he surprises you when he grabs it and removes it. Furrowing your brows, you watch as he slides your hand from his waist up his chest, eventually reaching his shoulder. You go completely red in the face as you feel his chest, and when you look up he’s smiling and quite red as well.

“I believe,” he whispers, “your hand goes up here.” You smile and shift your hand further up on his shoulder.

“Looks like you’re not as pants at dancing as you thought, Weasley.”

“George,” he responds. Confused, you tilt your head. 

“Call me George,” he clarifies. “Not Weasley.” He looks you right in the eyes as he says this, but when he’s finished he bashfully looks away, pressing his lips together. 

Shifting your hand to the side, your fingers reach the hairline on the back of his neck and you begin to play with the hairs there. You grow bolder at the shiver that runs through his body and tug ever so slightly while whispering “George.”

His eyes lock onto yours and the eye contact is more intense than anything you’ve felt before. You hold it for as long as you can manage, but soon it becomes too much and you duck your head down. Instead, you opt to lean in closer to George, resting your head on his chest as you continue to sway back and forth.

You mumble along to the words of the song and he squeezes your hand that’s still wrapped in his. Allowing yourself to indulge in your fantasies for just a moment, you imagine that George knows you love him and that he loves you back. You imagine that this is normal for the two of you, dancing romantically in an empty classroom, that you are his girlfriend and he is your boyfriend and this is what the two of you do on the nights you spend together. You imagine him walking you back to your common room and hugging you closer than you’ve ever been, and just when you think the night is over you imagine him giving you a kiss goodnight.

This last thought causes blood to rush back into your cheeks and you tuck your head further into his chest. He laughs lightly, pulling you closer to him. The two of you are barely swaying now, but the song is ending anyway and you feel intense disappointment. You wish this could have lasted all night. 

As the song ends and transitions into another, some Pearl Jam song, the two of you stop swaying but don’t move away from each other. Instead of pulling away awkwardly like you thought you might, George takes your hand that he’s holding and brings it up to his neck so it joins your other one. He puts his second hand around your waist and squeezes, wrapping you in a hug. Ducking his head down as much as he can, he tucks his nose into the side of your neck. You can feel his soft breaths and light smile against your skin and it takes everything in you not to let shivers run down your body.

The two of you stand there for another minute or so, just enjoying each other's presence, when eventually he begins to pull away. He keeps his hands around your waist, though, and looks down at you with the kindest look you’ve ever seen on a person.

“Guess our break is over, huh?” You smile at this and curl the hair at the nape of his neck around your finger one more time before removing your hands. You’re tempted to let them run down his chest like they did on their way up, but you resist. He brings his hands back to his sides and you sigh as you pick up your forgotten broom.

“Yeah, I suppose it is. I would like to get this done before curfew, after all.” He chuckles at that and picks up your rag. All of a sudden the door opens, and in walks Professor McGonagall herself. Looking around the room, she nods a bit to herself before speaking.

“Still working, are you?” You nod as George shrugs a bit, swinging the rag over his shoulder. You tell yourself you don’t find that attractive at all, not one bit.  
“Very well,” McGonagall says. “You may head back to your dormitories once you are finished. I’ll be heading back to my office.”

She turns to leave, but just before she steps out of the room, she turns back around with a mischievous smile that you’ve never seen on her face before.

“Oh, and” she says, “please keep the dancing to a minimum this time.” Without leaving time for a response, she turns around and closes the door behind her, leaving George and you in silence. After a few seconds the two of you look at each other and burst out laughing before getting back to your chores.

The two of you finish quickly after that, and you even convince George to put the cleaning supplies back in a closet in the hallway. 

“McGonagall went through the trouble of putting it there, after all,” you argue. “The least we can do is put it back.”

George is carrying the broom over his shoulder and gripping a bucket full of rags in his other hand. “Well I’d think cleaning her whole bloody classroom would be enough.” 

Sighing, you respond, “We were in detention, if you’ve forgotten. It was our punishment to clean the room.” He winces at those words and gives you an apologetic look.

“Sorry about that, by the way. We never meant to land you in any trouble. Fred wanted to have a bit of fun, y’know, and who am I to say no to fun?”

You laugh and shake your head. “You two will be the death of me someday. But really, George, it’s no problem at all. Detention is surprisingly fun. At least, with you it is.” You reach the supplies closet and open the door for George. He walks in, winking at you as he does so, and places the broom down. 

While putting the bucket somewhere up on a shelf, he says, “Well, I’m flattered, Fletcher. I’m glad me taking your detention virginity was an enjoyable experience for you as well.” You’re in the midst of handing him your own bucket of cleaning supplies when he says this, and you freeze, turning beet red. Seeing your reaction, he seems to realize what he said and blushes as well.

“I, uh- I didn’t mean it like… You know I… Um…” He fumbles over his words and runs his hand through his hair (again, you tell yourself it’s not attractive at all, nope, not one bit). 

Choosing not to respond, you walk into the closet yourself, placing your bucket on a lower shelf facing away from him in hopes that he won’t see the embarrassed (but slightly pleased) look on your face. What you didn’t account for was the size of the closet, or rather lack thereof. You joining George seemed to fill all the room left in the tiny space and you were suddenly reminded of the stories told about the shagging couples caught in broom closets.

You blush even harder and spin around to face him, mouth open with the intent to say something, anything, that would ease the tension. Nothing comes out as your brain stops when you see the expression on George’s face. You’ve never seen such a look directed at you, and you can’t quite place what it is. He seems very concentrated, and perhaps a little desperate as he looks at you.  
That look, whatever it means, is certainly not helping with the thumping of your heart or the flips your stomach is doing. You stutter out a few syllables of what you think are words, but go silent when he says your name.

“Fletcher.” Slamming your mouth shut, you look up at him, doing nothing to stop his hand from reaching out to you. Reaching towards your face, he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and keeps his hand there. He seems to think for a moment before opening his mouth again.

“I-”

“Snogging in a closet, are we?” George and you jump at the sudden intrusion, springing apart and slamming your backs into the shelves behind you. Wincing, you look to the open door to see Fred with a shit eating grin on his face looking quite pleased with himself. You close your eyes and count to ten to avoid yelling anything, but George doesn’t seem to take the same precautions. 

Thumping his twin on the back of his head, he yells out, “Bloody hell, mate, give a guy some warning would you? Nearly scared the life outta me. Shit.” You take a deep breath to steady your still racing heart and give Fred your fiercest glare. From the look he gives back, you can tell he knows exactly what he did and isn’t one bit sorry about it.

“Fred, you wanker. Where did you even know where to find us?” At this, Fred looks to George and smiles, appearing charming and innocent. 

“Harry let me borrow the map for a moment. I was waiting in the common room for you to get back, but got impatient. You took forever!” He looks over at you, his gaze trailing up and down your flustered self. “Now I know why.”

George straightens up and flushes, once more whacking his brother on the back of the head.

“Ow, ow! Bloody hell, fine, sorry!” You laugh lightly at the two of them and push the door open a bit wider, slipping out beside Fred.

“Well,” you say as the two of them look at you. “I don’t know about you two, but I don’t plan on receiving another detention after being caught out past curfew.” You put your hands behind your back and nod to the twins as a quick goodbye before turning around and walking towards the Hufflepuff common room.

“Fletcher,” you hear George call. 

Your stomach does another little flip, but you don’t stop walking. Looking over your shoulder, you see Fred nudging the side of George who looks like he wants to say something. You simply smile and say “have a nice night, boys,” and continue walking.

You pretend you don’t hear Fred’s loud “Congratulations, mate” followed by a thump and another loud “ow!” No, you just shake your head and hide your smile as you continue walking.

___________________

The group of you, the golden trio, ginny, the twins, Lee Jordan, and yourself, are sitting outside, trying to enjoy the last bits of warmth before winter fully sets in. For a while, the twins and Jordan play some violent game involving throwing a quaffle at one another while the rest of you talk about classes and whatever comes to mind. As always, you have a book in your hands as you lean against the tree hanging over the group. You’re a bit distracted by the boys yelling during their game and the gossip that Ginny is telling the rest of the group, but you smile anyway. You’re not sure if it’s the rare weather or the company, but today’s a particularly good day for you.

Eventually, the twins and Jordan tire of their barbaric game, and they come over to join the group. Fred and Jordan sit on the edge of the circle where there was a clear opening, but George walks around the group over to you. Sitting on the grass next to you, he shifts and leans back so his head is resting in your lap on top of your book. Looking down at him, you raise an eyebrow but say nothing.

“Oh, come on,” he says. “I’m sure I’m much more interesting than whatever book you’re reading.” You roll your eyes despite the smile on your face and pull the book out from under his head. Instead, you rest your arms behind his head on your knee and the other on his chest, holding the book on the other side of his head. 

The two of you have been a lot closer since the night you had detention and much more touchy. His arm is always around your shoulders, or your arm is linked with him, or your sides are simply pressed together when sitting next to each other. It’s a new change, and an exciting one, but it just felt natural for you to always touch or be touched by George. You try not to think too much about it, but it becomes hard when the man you love is surrounding you.

Now, as he lies his head on your lap, his hand reaches up and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. You smile without looking at him, still focusing on your book, but use one hand to run your fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes at the touch and smiles, letting out a pleased hum. 

You manage to finish another chapter of your book, and you get so invested in the story that you unconsciously stop playing with his hair. His eyes shoot open and he pokes at your cheek in silent complaints, but you just laugh and put both hands back on the book.

“I’m reading a book, George. I can’t constantly play with your hair, you big baby.” 

Smiling and with a wink, he says “well, just pay attention to me instead.” 

You roll your eyes and flip the page of your book. Sighing, he takes your other hand attached to the arm resting on his chest and plays with the fingers for a minute.

Eventually he takes off the ring that you’re wearing, a small silver band with a green gem that you saw in a shop and thought was beautiful. When you look down, you see him trying it on himself. “If you get it stuck,” you say, “then I’ll kill you, Weasley.”

“Hey,” he protests. 

You roll your eyes. “I’ll kill you, George.” 

He smiles and says, “thank you.” You just look down at him with a fond smile and he looks back before you shake your head slightly and go back to reading your book. You can’t focus though, because you can feel George’s eyes still on you. He takes your ring off his finger and slips it back on your hand, slowly. This time, even though it’s your right hand, he slips it on your ring finger. You notice and wink down at him. He blushes a bit and turns his head into your stomach. Being a bit ticklish there, you giggle and he smiles at the sound.

The two of you look up when you hear someone clear their throat. You look up and everyone else around you is just staring at the two of you, embarrassed or shocked or completely pleased with themselves. There’s silence until Ginny says, “It’s George! I won the bet!” You look at her and just blush, mouth slightly open. George blushes too.

Hermione yells, “Ginny!” before ordering everyone else away because “clearly they need to talk. Hush, Fred, let’s go.” You watch them leave before looking down at George, still in your lap. He looks back up at you, blushing and nervous.

“I mean, looking at this situation, you can’t be surprised.” He huffs out a laugh at that, but still doesn’t meet your eyes. You poke his cheek until he does, and when your eyes meet he speaks.

“You know… these past ten minutes with you have been happier than any other time I can remember at Hogwarts. Hell, probably happier than I’ve ever really felt. And I know that sounds stupid, but… I don’t know, I’ve had a good life, and everything is good right now, except…” he looks up smiling at you and pokes your cheek. “Now there’s you added on to everything good and I’ve never had that before.” 

Looking down at him, you can still see the blush and hints of nervousness, but he’s not a Gryffindor for nothing; you can also see the determined purse of his lips and look in his eyes. You trace over his brows with your finger, down his temple and across his cheek bone. He closes his eyes, and when you place your hand on his cheek he leans into it.

“George,” you whisper. “Sit up.” He opens his eyes now, and they seem worried, as though he thinks you’ve done something wrong. There’s no smile on your face, just an intense look of interest. He pushes himself up and sits beside you, his front facing yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he says as he plays with his fingers in his lap. “I got too comfortable, I suppose. I should have…” You reach forward and push a bit of his hair off his forehead. His attention goes back to you and you cup his cheek once more. This time, there’s a smile on your face.

“Don’t be silly,” you say. “I couldn’t reach you all the way down there.”

His eyebrows knit together and he asks “what did you need to reach me for?” The words have barely left his mouth before you lean forward and ever so gently press your lips against his. It’s less of a kiss and more a touching of mouths, but it lasts for a few seconds before you lean back. He’s staring at you with amazement in his eyes, his cheeks as red as can be. A goofy smile lights up his face and suddenly you feel reckless and brave. 

“Oh, sod it all,” you say before surging forward, tackling him to the ground. He only has the time to let out a surprised yelp before you kiss him fiercely, refusing to let go. After his shock wears off, he finally responds, one hand grabbing your waist and the other going to the back of your head. 

The two of you stayed there for quite some time, you on top of him, kissing in the grass until eventually you pulled away, out of breath. He chased your lips for a moment, stealing one more kiss before leaning back, out of breath as well. You stared at each other, lips red and raw from the snogging, bewildered smiles on both of your faces. The smile on George’s face, however, quickly turns into a smirk as he pushes against your side, pushing you off of him and onto your back. His own body quickly follows, one hand still in your hair and the other elbow propped on the ground beside your head.

You raise both eyebrows at him, impressed. Raising your arms, which were lying on the ground by your sides, you lightly touch his waist. He startles at the contact and you smirked, tracing your hands slowly up his chest, over his jumper. As your hands rise, his eyes fall and the cocky look on his face fades. When your hands finally reach his neck, you lightly grip his jaw and stroke your thumbs across his cheek bones. His eyes open at this touch, and with a smirk still on your face, you whisper “Wicked.”

The noise that escapes him is one you’ve never heard before and never want to stop hearing. Somewhere between a whine and a groan, a gutteral sound leaves his throat as he brings his lips back down to yours. You smile into the kiss; it feels like he wants to swallow you whole, and if he feels anything like you do then that’s not even the half of it.

___________________

Later, by the time the sun goes down and your stomachs are rumbling, you decide to head back in for dinner. George is sitting up against the tree with you between his legs, leaning back on his chest. For hours the two of you had talked about your feelings, when they had started, instances when you wanted nothing more than to kiss the other but didn’t because you were worried they didn’t like you back.

The two of you entered the great hall hand in hand, laughing at a joke George had made. You find your friends and sit down with them, ignoring the curious looks they all gave you. Instead of acknowledging them, you began piling food onto your plate and quietly eating. Surprisingly, it was Ron who broke the silence.

“Oh, come on. We know the two of you just spent hours snogging, we can all tell. So? Since when was this a thing?” You look at him and the back at George who was smiling at you. Looking back to Ron, you shrug and swallow your bite of potatoes.

“Not until earlier, actually.” 

Fred cut in. “Yeah, maybe you didn’t acknowledge it until earlier, but it’s been going on for bloody weeks, the pair of them dancing around each other. I caught them nearly snogging in a broom cupboard last week!” Hermione snickers at that and ignores the look you give her. When she manages to stop laughing, she looks at you.

“So, who wins the bet then? This isn’t exactly an outcome we prepared for.” Before you can say anything, Ginny interjects.

“I win, actually. They hadn’t gotten together when I said it was George, so it still counts! That means I win the bet.” You think about it for a moment before shrugging.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess so.” Hermione sighs and Fred begins to protest, saying he knew all along, so really shouldn’t he win the bet?

You ignore them and instead slip your free hand under the table, placing it gently on George’s leg. You were aiming for the knee, but his legs were too damn long, and so you ended up somewhere on his thigh. You feel his leg jerk at the touch and you smile into your food, ignoring the glare George gives you.

“A bloody seductress, you are. Should have known.” He whispers into your ear. You look at him and give him your most innocent smile.  
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, Georgie.” 

The argument between Fred and Ginny eventually dies down, Ginny being declared the winner. You hadn’t thought much about what that meant until there was a comfortable silence in the group and she decided to break it.

“One time I caught Fletcher in the middle of having a dream about you, George. And from the sounds she was making, it wasn’t PG.” You freeze, flushing violently before whipping towards her, mouth wide open.

“Ginny! You said you would never mention that! You swore!” Ginny just shrugged and smiled back at you.

“Yeah, but I won the bet, which means I get to embarrass you in front of whoever it was. That seemed like a brilliant way to do so.” You glare at her, something you don’t often do, and prepare to yell some more when you feel something touch your hand.

You look over to George to find him very red in the face, but also looking very pleased with himself. Your hand had unknowingly tightened on his thigh, and he placed his hand on top of yours.  
You could barely look him in the eyes, and when you tried to pull your hand away his grip only tightened, refusing to let you release his thigh.

“Ginny,” he says slowly, eyes never leaving your face. “Tell me, when did our little Fletcher here have this dream?” You glared up at him at this and dug your nails into his thigh.

“I don’t think it matters, does it?” You hiss at him.

He simply smirks back at you. “Oh, I think it does.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ginny said, amusement obvious in her voice. “Depends on which time you’re talking about. Could it be the one from two years ago? Or from just last month?”

If you thought George’s grin couldn’t get any wider, you were incredibly wrong. Before anyone can respond, and by the amused looks of their faces, Harry and Fred have quite a few words to say, you stand up, removing your hand from under George’s. You can’t meet anyone’s eyes, and so you just stare at the table and pray your hair hides your red cheeks.

“Well, that was a lovely meal, but I’m quite full now. See you guys later!” You rush away from the table, trying to escape before anyone has the bright idea to follow you. For a moment, as you reach the double doors and enter the hallway, you think you’re in the clear. Unfortunately for you, you hear some deep laughter and quick footsteps behind you. Picking up your speed without trying to make it seem too obvious, you turn the corner and duck into the first alcove you can find, hoping he won’t find you. Of course, you can never hide from a Weasley.

Your attempt at escape proves pointless as he finds you almost immediately. You flush and look away from him, crossing your arms over your chest. His laughter grows and he steps into the alcove, leaning against the wall across from you. He leans his head down, trying to force himself into your line of sight. You just turn your head further away.

“Oh, come on, love, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about! I’m sure plenty of other ladies out there have sexy dreams about me, too!  
Gasping, you look at him and slap his arm. “George Weasley, I did not have… I didn’t have any sort of dreams about you, PG or otherwise.” You huff as you stand across from him, but he takes a step forward, leaning close to you.

“Well, that’s not what Ginny said. Now tell me, how would Ginny know about these dreams if she’s in a different year than you? You’ve never shared a dormitory, so…” He fakes a gasp and takes another step closer. By now he’s less than a foot away and his proximity is starting to affect you rather strongly. Still, you refuse to meet his eyes.  
“Don’t tell me, darling. All those times you were visiting the borough… were you thinking about me as you slept? You shared a room with Ginny, didn’t you? And to think, I was only a few doors away.” You glare at him and poke him hard in the chest.

“George Weasley, I swear to Merlin if you say one more word-” 

“You’ll what,” he interrupts. “Have a dream about-” He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence before you grab his face and pull him down, pushing your lips against his. Yes, you’re embarrassed beyond belief, but in this alcove with him pressed close to you, teasing you with that damn smirk of his about topics like… well, you can’t kill him, so your only plan right now is to snog him senseless.

It takes him a moment, but he quickly responds, taking the final step closer to you and gripping you around the waist. He lightly pushes you against the wall, snogging with as much ferocity as you give back. Yes, you had spent all afternoon in similar circumstances, but you don’t think you’ll ever tire of kissing George Weasley.

After a while he pulls back, desperate for breath. You don’t let him go too far and press another kiss to the corner of his mouth and then his cheek. 

Despite his heavy breathing, he opens his mouth and speaks. “Fletcher, I-” He cuts himself off with another whine-groan-whimper as you press a kiss just below his ear. “Bloody hell, Fletcher. What do you say we make some of those dreams of yours come true, eh?”

Pausing for a moment, you press one last kiss to George’s cheek before pulling back. Looking up at him, you take your hands and run them up his arms, across his shoulders and down his chest. His eyes close, clearly wanting, or even expecting, them to continue their journey, but when you reach his lower stomach you quickly retract your hands and duck under his arms towards the alcove’s exit.

Once his brain processes your sudden disappearance, he looks at you confused and disappointed, but you just smile back at him. “In your dreams, Weasley.”

At this, you turn around and walk out of the alcove, leaving him to deal with himself. You only get halfway down the hallway when you hear him running after you and calling out, “Yes, but apparently in yours too!”

Looking over your shoulder at his running figure, you laugh and begin running yourself. He chases you through the hall, occasionally catching you and then letting you slip away again, but only after he’s peppered you with more kisses than you can count. And yes, you end up running into McGonagall, and yes, you get house points taken away for running around, but even that doesn’t take the smile off your face.


End file.
